


Before 9

by noifsandsorbees, scullyphile



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, The X-Files Revival, wifegate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noifsandsorbees/pseuds/noifsandsorbees, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullyphile/pseuds/scullyphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We did a thing. Just try it. Trust us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before 9

Scully wakes on a cold morning in September to an empty bed and the feeling in her gut that something is very wrong. It’s the same feeling she used to get when, years ago, Mulder would call her to say that he’s trapped in Iowa without a car, again, or, like last Sunday, when he used up the last of their coffee and all the stores were closed. She forces herself to get up, throws on a robe and shuffles downstairs.

She finds Mulder crouching down by the backlit oven, her ridiculous bright pink apron covered with white cats tied around his pajamas. He rights himself, moving over to a cookbook on the kitchen table before glancing back at the oven. Scully catches her first glimpse of his face, sugar and flour layered in a three-month-old beard and a look of pure concentration and frustration. She silences a laugh in the back of her throat before it can come out and walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He turns around, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“What are you doing awake? It’s only 7, you were supposed to be asleep for at least another two hours.” He’s rushed and distracted, but when his eyes catch hers he all but melts into her. 

“Mulder, it’s already 8.”

“Oh shit,” he groans, wrenching away and racing back to the oven. He reaches inside and pulls out three pans. “Why didn’t we ever get the clock fixed? If it’s 8 then I’ve probably had this thing in there for at least two hours.”

“Mulder, since when do you bake anything?”

“Well, Scully,” he states, turning back to her, having placed the pans on the top of the stove. “Since you wouldn’t let us buy a wedding cake, I figured I’d have to make one.”

“Mulder,” she whines, “it’s not even a real wedding. Just a formality,” she states, waving away the idea with a flick of her hand.

“Well, Scully,” he leers again, wrapping his arms back around her, “you may choose to think so, but I think this is a day that needs to be celebrated. Good morning, by the way.” He leans down to kiss her and she can’t fight him on this part, letting herself get lost in him before pulling away and wandering to the stove.

“This is our wedding cake?” she gasps, sounding so shocked that he’s suddenly terrified to say yes. “It looks like a giant penis!”

“What are you talking about? It’s a normal, round cake! I just have to ice them and stack it.” He sounds sure of himself, but he’s warily leaning over her shoulder to double check, staring at the two round cake pans and bread pan lying on the stovetop. He removes the cakes, managing to burn only three fingers, and lays them on wax paper he’d placed on the counter earlier.

“No, Mulder. This is definitely a penis. Giant cock and balls,” she states, gesturing to the parts as she talks.

“No, it’s not! I know what a penis looks like.”

“I’m a medical doctor, Mulder, and your soon to be wife. I think I know better than you.” He’s glancing between her and the cake, refusing to accept what she’s saying even if he can start to see it, _just a little bit._

“Scully, it’s definitely not anything phallic.”

“Well, maybe I should double check,” she teases, dropping to her knees and running her hands underneath his apron.

“Scully, this is serious,” he says, pulling her hands away from his crotch and standing her back on her feet. “You can’t just waltz in here and announce that this cake – my labor of love that I spent hours on – resembles the male genitalia. It’s mere hours before our wedding, and I do not have time to start over.”

“I’m not asking you to start over, Mulder. I am asking you to admit that it looks like what we both know it looks like. Although, this one is a little crooked.”

“It’s not crooked; you’re crooked. Don’t you have anything better to do with your morning than ruin my fun?”

“I’m having fun, Mulder, aren’t you? Listen, it’s not that bad, really. If we just change the presentation a little no one will know. I bet it’s still delicious.”

Scully’s hands reach for one of the cake balls. She holds his eye as she breaks off a piece and puts it in her mouth.

“Mmmm. Oh my god, Mulder!” she moans, her eyes closing. “This is delicious! You have to try some.”

“Scully, I will not stand here and eat balls in my own kitchen. I am putting my foot down on this.”

“How about just the tip?”

“Very funny. Now move. I have to get the frosting on this… thing,” he says, grabbing a can of frosting and starting to spread some onto the tip of the loaf-shaped cake.

“Mulder, wait. You can’t start frosting it while it’s still hot. You have to let it cool first.”

“Why?” he asks, but when he looks down at the cake he knows. The frosting is melting into a pool of white at the tip of his chocolate phallus.

“The cake – the cake is prematurely frosted. It’s everywhere.”

“It’s…. it’s not what it looks like,” she giggles as he panics, hastily starting to frost the other side of the cake, and her laugher only gets louder as he continues.

“Mulder, now it just looks like old balls.” He looks down and, indeed, the white frosting covering the round cakes didn’t help the appearance at all. “What was your original plan anyway?”

“Well we only had the two round pans, so I was going to stack those and then find some way to cut this into a circle. I didn’t realize it would look like…” he trails off and refuses to finish.

“You’re damn lucky it actually tastes good. Try it,” she urges again, picking off a piece and pushing it toward his mouth.

“Scully, on our wedding day, the last thing I want in my mouth is balls.”

“C’mon Mulder, the filling is oozing out, you’re going to miss it,” she pushes again as the frosting starts to leak off the cake. “Just a little bit, please? For me?”

As she advances with the cake, still trying to shovel it into his mouth, he starts walking backwards away from her.

“Mulder, you put everything in your mouth, I remember you at crime scenes. Why not cake balls?”

He doesn’t have a good answer, but he’s not ready for her to win this fight. What he needs is a distraction, a sexy distraction.

“Hey, wait just a minute. What do you have on under that robe, Scully?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she threatens, holding the piece of cake out in front of her. “I’ll do it. I’ll rub this cake all over your face.”

“You’re not wearing anything under there, are you?”

“Yes I am,” she answers. His plan is working; she is no longer moving toward him.

“Is it that short red number? The lacy one I like? I don’t see any pants. Open it up. I want to see!”

“Whatever happened to wedding sentimentality? Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride?”

“Oh, so I want to see what’s under the robe and you’re traditional all of a sudden? You’ve never cared about that before. Let’s go, take it off. You take it off, and I’ll taste a little something. I promise. I’ve already seen you anyway. The state of dress or undress makes no difference.”

“Well if it makes no difference, I might as well stay dressed.”

At this point she has him backed against the kitchen wall and he realizes his plan to get the upper hand is being foiled.

“Scully, why would you ever say such a thing?” he whines, reaching forward to grab at the knot of her robe.

Her first instinct is to press the cake in her hand into his face, so she does just that, watching as the chocolate covers his nose and mouth. He pauses for a moment in shock, before wiping it off and lowering himself to her ear; he definitely hadn’t expected to start his morning with frosting in his nostrils. “That’s not playing fair, Scully,” he whispers. “But if that’s how you want to play it, I think it’s time I get to taste what I want.”

Within seconds she’s lying on her back on the kitchen floor with Mulder straddling her and kissing his way down her neck and chest until he reaches the robe. It is the red nighty, he realizes, sending his lust into overdrive as he works eagerly on the knot. He hears her breathing heavily and looks up at her just in time to see her with her frosting covered finger in her mouth.

At last the knot comes loose and the robe opens. He runs his hands up her thighs, pulling her nighty up above her breasts. He can’t believe his eyes as he realizes she didn’t bother to throw on the matching panties this morning.

“You’re killing me, Scully,” he groans, running his hands up her abdomen and cupping her breasts.

“Just watch out, because if any frosting gets down there I will kill you.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’d do that right now,” he smirks at her before leaning down and kissing her clit. Her back arches off the floor immediately, his nose wiping frosting onto her belly button as he glances up to watch her.

He laughs for a moment before bringing his head back down and running his tongue along the length of her folds. Her hands fall into his hair as he takes her clit back in his mouth, sucking it and then letting his tongue roam.

“Fuck, Mulder,” she groans, pushing his head down and her hips up. He slides a finger inside her and searches for the spot he knows is there, near the front, that all but guarantees her release. He feels the ridges and knows he has her now. He allows himself a moment to raise his head and speak to her in his low voice, the one that drives her mad.

“C’mon Scully, come for me one more time before you’re officially my wife,” and at that she's gone, coming hard into his mouth.

He lays his head on her thigh as she tries to get her breathing to return to normal, her head back against the floor, eyes closed. He catches her eye once she reopens them. “See, Scully, this was much better. Don’t you agree?”

“It’s pretty good Mulder, but as a scientist I maintain you need to taste both to know.”

“I could say the same for you,” he says as he moves up to kiss her.

“Your cake definitely tastes better,” she mumbles against his lips.

He can taste it on her tongue and groans in appreciation. “It is pretty good, but I still prefer you.”

“But,” she says, “we can’t serve that at the reception.”

“I don’t know, it might go over well with the best man.”

“Remind me why I’m marrying you?”

“Because apparently I can bake a mean cake and make you come all before 9 a.m. What else do you need?”


End file.
